Monday, May 27, 2013

I am undercover
to do a dangerous and thrilling investigation for Murder is Everywhere. I am
standing in for Caro Ramsay who knows absolutely nothing about my secret quest. My current position is somewhere on the
battlements of Cawdor Castle. My mission
(as I wished to accept it) is to find the truth about the Thane of Cawdor. I am
the 'Wean of Cawdor'. If you are from Glasgow, that is a really funny joke. If
not, laugh anyway. Who is the Thane of Cawdor I hear the illiterati ask? You may know him as another name.

Macbeth.

Yes
that one. But it's bad luck to say it, so it's Mac****!

Mark McManus

I always
thought that Taggart was the best murder drama to come out of Scotland but it
turns out that the Shakespeare chappie got there first.

All that 'Is this a dagger which I see before me, the
handle toward my hand?' stuff ( Was he on drugs? Od'd on the Irn Bru? I need to
know). Him of the double, double toil
and trouble, fire burn, and caldron bubble. Wouldn't know about that, we have an
Aga.

The
pink pest err princess from Inverness

I will
be both assisted and hindered in my assignment by The Pink Princess of
Inverness (see poetry and everything!!). She is mostly a hindrance due to her
pink addiction. Also on duty is the
Hound of the Baskernuts ... Hector is a ferocious hound. A dog who will defend us to his death, against all enemies
fearless and brave - unless you give him a hobnob. He doesn't bite. The thought of him sitting on you is
terrifying enough.

Descended
from a wolf, evolved into a sofa

Our
quest, dear Murder Is Everywhere readers is to prove or disprove that Macbeth
was a murderer. Or if he existed? Where does the fiction stop and the fact start?
Or vice versa? I will examine the detail
of the transgressive nature of Macbeth within a psychosocial framework of the history in a temporal space and
the literature using the Frankfurt school of critical theory.

Me, secret squirrel at your service

First I
will have an ice cream.

Once I
have passed my first challenge, getting the ice cream in my mouth and not all
over my face, I am going to begin by exploring the Scottish play that the Brummie
bloke with the funny beard wrote while considering his beard and his hairstyle
and thinking that he might have his head on upside down.

The play-that-must-not-be-named
kicks off by being scary ... very scary indeed. The three old biddies like my
granny and her bingo pals are having a wee chin wag while boiling their underwear in a cauldron and they promise MacB*** great things. Probably a bit
like being in front of Sharon Osbourne
on the X factor.

They tell him that he
will become Thane of Cawdor, like a sheriff, then king of Scotland. The only
problem is Scotland already had a king.

Kings in these days were
a bit like reality TV shows and cuts in public spending. Don't worry if you miss
one, there will be another one along in minute.

Mac**** has a wee think
about all this but his missus is a bit of a pushy bird and forces him to do bad
things.

I have no idea where Shakespeare went but he
never came to Burnham wood - and the wood never got as far as Dunsinane. "Macbeth
shall never vanquished be, until Great Birnam Wood to high Dunsinane Hill shall
come against him." I tried this journey, moving the forest twig
by twig as you can see.

Cawdor
has a great wood of its own, thank you!

Dunsinane Hill is near the village of Callace
in Perthshire. It is not very high. As hills go, in Scotland, it's rubbish.

In
a nutshell, Mrs. Mac**** is a bit pushy, she aids and abets the death of King
Duncan so her husband can be king. But the old dears said it was the descendants
of Banquo who will reign so Mac**** kills Banquo to stop that happening. But
Mac**** is troubled by a ghost, his conscience, indigestion or just the fact
that his missus never stops moaning. From
then on it's a bit like a Caro Ramsay novel, everybody dies, or goes mad, often
both at the

same time.

Like most fiction writers, Shakespeare never allowed truth or geography
to get in the way of a good story. The real Mac**** was a big red headed guy
who told jokes a lot. When he was in charge the country ran well and at a
profit. Which is more than be said for
the current situation. Mac**** went on
tour, a bit like Kate and William but without the frocks. He also nipped over the border and bopped the
English a few times for which we applaud him. This was all around the 11th
century which makes him slightly older than my dad but Mac**** had more hair. In Scots he was called Mac
Bethad mac Findláich so you see why it's wise to resort to asterisks. It means Mac****
son of Finlay. Who his mother actually was is not agreed on, but presumably his
dad had some vague idea.

Then the English butted in as usual, upsetting the peace and
quiet. In 1054, Macbeth was challenged
by Siward, Earl of Northumbria. Siward was attempting to return Duncan's son
Malcolm Canmore, (his nephew) to the throne. Are you following all this? In 1057, Macbeth was killed at the Battle of
Lumphanan in Aberdeenshire by Malcolm, who then went on later to become Malcolm
III.

Not Malcolm X, that was a different dude all together.

And that was the end of that. No witches, no ghosts, no wandering about
seeing daggers before my eyes, no soliloquies on battlements. But then how would we know about a soliloquy if the
point is that nobody else hears it. Or
do you eavesdrop while hiding behind the arras while discussing what pencil to use.. 2B or not 2B. Or am I on the
wrong play now?

Old Will knew how to coin a phrase. Fair is foul, and foul is fair...
which is how my dad plays football.

“Nought’s had, all’s spent,

Where our desire is got without content:

Tis safer to be that which we destroy

Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy”

Lady Macbeth finds that getting what you want doesn't bring peace. She
knew that thing about you don’t get what you want - you get what you need.

This is
my trip to Cawdor castle, this is indeed Cawdor castle but it might not really
have much to do with anything, the family still live there, the young laird
still goes around the village, starting the annual tug of war competition. The
castle is open to visitors in the summer, but as this was too early, we went
sneak about. With The Pink Princess of Inverness and the Hound of the
Baskernuts.

The pink
pest with her invisible Sig Hauer (left hand). See dead ted in the back ground,
he was used as target practice.

As I
said, Cawdor Castle is famous for the Great Wood, it’s not great it’s
fantastic!

It has
loads of trees; Birch, Aspen, Rowan, Wych Elm, Holly and Juniper. Scots Pine,
Oak and Beech. The wood is lovely with stitchwort, bluebell, ferns, mosses and
honeysuckle all mixing with young saplings.

There's also dippers, capercaillies, herons,
wrens and numerous species of birds of prey mixed with migrants from crossbills
to waxwings. Wild pheasants are
everywhere! The wild peasants stay in the village.

Red and
roe deer have a wee wander in as well, relaxed in the knowledge that the hound
of the baskernut is way too fat to chase anything except pizza.

2 comments:

Dear Secret Squirrel. You and Pink Pest, assisted by the Hound of B***, have all done Scotland proud. I now understand the origins of Big Mac*** better than ever before...as sadly I was first introduced to the fancy fellow by "English" teachers.

You've earned your ice-cream. And I look forward to buying your personal bard a wee nip in less than a week in Bristol.

I'm not sure I've laughed this much in a long time. I like your take on the Scottish play, especially the modern references. And Jeff, you are so-o-o funny. Big Mac, indeed. Is there going to be a new book from Ms. Ramsay?